Beneath
by DamselInDeduction
Summary: Sherlock has been keeping a dirty little secret...


He was caught.

 _She knew._

He could smell the faintest trace of her perfume here in his bedroom, the sweet scent of peaches and something just a touch warmer. Just a piece of the constantly unfolding puzzle that was Molly Hooper.

Sherlock Holmes could never resist a puzzle.

 _There is a clue here. She came here to leave a clue, where-_

 _Of course._

He moved quickly to his bureau and opened the top drawer. His sock index had not been disturbed, but his pants had been taken out of order. Unfolded and displayed on top of immaculate rows of his underthings were one of his few pair of silk boxers. Midnight blue, a fairly recent purchase and only worn once. A perfect background to Molly's blush-colored satin knickers. An item with which Sherlock was intimately acquainted.

But Molly Hooper was never supposed to find out about that.

It had begun innocently enough. Well, as innocent as things get for Sherlock Holmes.

Molly's flat was his favorite bolthole. Television, internet access, a fine selection of pathology journals and medical texts, and after much badgering on his part she was finally stocking up on his favorite chocolate biscuits.

Comfortable and predictable. Usually predictable.

A pair of nude lace knickers hanging in the bathroom. Hanging to dry over her shower curtain rod. Simple, not garish or eye-catching, but quietly sensual.

 _Like Molly herself._

This wasn't the first time he'd acknowledged Molly as a sexual being, but he'd never had tangible evidence like this. An image of his pathologist wearing nothing but that scrap of lace flashed into his mind. Her hand covering small breasts that would fit perfectly under his hand, under his lips. Chestnut curls just visible beneath the light lace.

His own moan pulled him from his thoughts, and he realized he was achingly hard. He nearly ran from Molly's bathroom into her sitting room, stopping suddenly as he looked around the flat. She wasn't home yet from her shift at Barts, thank God. She'd never have to know that he was-

God, what was he doing? He dragged a hand over his face, trying to shake off his arousal.

It was just a fleeting image. Easily deleted. She would never have to know it had happened, so no harm done.

Sherlock was finally able to draw a deep breath and the surge of panic subsided. But his erection would not. He knew what his body wanted. He'd been denying himself this release for a while, but he couldn't do this to Molly. She was too kind, too good, she wasn't some fodder for a quick wank.

 _In her own flat even? What kind of a pervert would do that?_

His cock twitched. Almost in a trance he walked back into the bathroom. With his eyes on Molly Hooper's knickers, he freed himself from his bespoke trousers. His eyes closed as he palmed the length of his cock, saying her name like a mantra.

 _It'll be quick. She'll never need to know._

An addict craves more of his drug after every hit.

He craved answers to questions he didn't know to ask before.

 _What else was Molly Hooper hiding?_

 _Was the lace for a special occasion? Or did she wear lace everyday? Does lingerie like this make her feel sexy, or powerful? What other fabrics did she have in her knicker drawer? Satins? Silk?_

 _Leather?_

These were the questions keeping him up all night. Images flashed in his mind's eye constantly of Molly in different lingerie and different position. Molly bent over in the lab, not removing her knickers but simply pulling that nude lace over to the side before begging him to bury himself her sweet wet cunt.

The thought pushed him to action as he crushed out yet another cigarette.

He had avoided Molly's bedroom for as long as he was able, but he knew it had only been a matter of time before he breached the privacy of that room. A shiver of anticipation ran up his spine, even as he recognized how wrong it was for him to be going through her things.

He took a bracing breath.

Opening the drawer with both hands, he looked over haphazardly folded knickers, mostly cotton, solids with a few novelty prints. A smirk found its way to his face as a fingered a pair of pink skull print knickers. But he was caught between disappointment and relief at the lack of lingerie.

 _Wait, where were the lace ones?_

His brow furrowed. He looked carefully through the drawer now, looking for the scrap of lace that started this mad little obsession, but they weren't there.

Although he knew he was alone in the flat, he still closed the top drawer as soundlessly as possible.

Sherlock only hesitated for a moment before opening the next one.

 _Ah, here we are._

A small pile of lace knickers, these much more carefully folded than the cotton knickers. Nude, white, and black.

But they were sitting on a black square box, larger than the average shoe box. Fabric covered with a hinge on the side. Sherlock carefully removed the lace bits, memorizing their exact layout so he could return them without raising suspicion.

He lifted the black box out of the drawer and set it on Molly's bed. He knew this box was something important, something she didn't show the world. Almost as if she hid it away from even herself.

Reverently, he opened the box and his senses were assaulted by sensuous fabrics and colors. Lingerie of varying styles, romantic and edgy, begging to be caressed by a lover's hand. And God, he wanted to see his Molly in every single one.

Sherlock gently stroked the first piece with his thumb before pulling it from the box. A corset of mostly red sheer mesh with bold red bands of satin, he laid it out on the bed before gathering the matching knickers.

 _Very sexy, almost commandingly so. Not for everyday. No, these are a tool of seduction. These-_

His brilliant mind nearly short-circuited.

Crotchless. His two fingers stroked and parted the fabric right where Molly's cunt would be.

 _Has been._

Sherlock knew before he opened the drawer that the exercise would probably end with his cock in his fist again. But it took him an amazing amount of will to not cum in his trousers right there. The kind of will he hadn't exerted since he was a hormone driven teen.

After calming his breathing, if not yet his erection, he looked through the entire treasure trove of Molly's collection. He wanted to commit every thing to memory, every style, every fiber.

A white ribbon caught his eye. Pulling it free, he found it was connected to blush pink satin with a small white lace edging. They might have been the most practical thing in the box, except for the satin ribbons that tied on each side..

 _Soft, sweet pink. Innocent, almost virginal. But those satin ties were meant to be removed by a lover. God, these were made to be on Molly Hooper._

Sherlock lay himself fully clothed onto Molly's bed. Closing his eyes, he ran his fingertips softly over the satin ribbons, picturing them tied daintily at the curve of his pathologist's hips.

Slowly, deliberately, he unbuttoned his trousers and lowered the zip. He tugged his pants down just low enough to free his cock and bollocks. Touching himself gently, he entertained his fantasy of Molly in the satin knickers, straddling him here in her bedroom. Large doe eyes gazing at him from behind her her long dark hair, hair that just reached dusky pink nipples. He saw her biting that lower lip, and he bit his in response.

 _Damn it, it's not enough._

His touch wasn't right. He wanted her soft, small hands.

 _Soft._

Too far into his arousal to care about boundaries now, he took the blush knickers and wrapped them around his cock. The warmth of his hand through the satin was a completely new sensation, but as soon as he began to move he was lost to it. He envisioned Molly riding him, the silk warmth of her cunt enveloping him on every stroke

When the satin ribbons began to tickle his bollocks, he was unable to hold back. With a hoarse cry of Molly's name he barely pulled the knickers away before cumming onto his torso and shirt. His mind was blissfully blank and his muscles felt liquid. Heroin, morphine, nothing had ever made him feel like this.

Sherlock wished he could say that this was the only time he ever invaded the sanctity of Molly's bedroom. That he learned to control the desires of his flesh and that he never defiled his loyal friend's flat again.

But an addict craves more of his drug after every hit.

The slight smell of cigarette smoke in her room. Her lingerie not quite organized the way she remembered. Creases on the satin ribbons, like someone was holding on to them tightly. Sherlock's unique scent on the pillow next to hers.

It had taken a week to come up with the plan- the perfect way to tell him that _she knew_.

She wasn't sure where the courage had come from, but she'd done it. And now he was on the other side of her door. She swallowed hard, knowing she needed even more courage to ask what she wanted of him.

She answered the door with a quiet greeting. Mustering up all the courage she had, Molly looked him in the eye. Her normally stoic detective looked vulnerable and unsure. As though he were waiting for her to do something. Send him away, perhaps.

 _Would it frighten him more if I asked him to stay?_

She gestured to her armchair, and he sat down silently, his Belstaff tucked around him tightly. Molly remained standing.

"I'd like them back, please," she stated flatly with a hand outstretched toward him.

Sherlock kept his eyes lowered as he reached into an inner pocket of his coat. She watched him run his thumb over the satin before placing them gently in her upturned palm.

A moment of tense silence stretched between them.

"You've taken and handled some of my most personal things, Sherlock," her voice was quiet but firm. "You've taken advantage of my hospitality and invaded my privacy. I should be much more upset with you, but the truth is that I'm not. Not really."

For the first time since he'd arrived, Sherlock looked up at Molly. She couldn't read his expression, but it was something she'd never see before. He looked almost desperate, and so much younger than the man she thought she knew.

Molly considered the satin knickers in her hand. "Sometimes I feel ridiculous when I look at this stuff. I don't wear any of it often. But sometimes when I feel- when I feel small or insignificant. When I feel ignored. Weak. These pieces make me feel powerful. They are my little secret, one the world doesn't need to know about." She let the satin slip from her hand and watched as it landed on the arm of her small sofa.

With that, Molly straightened her spine. She still needed her answers, she was so close.

"So I want to know why, Sherlock. Why you felt compelled to go through my things. I can't help but think you were looking for something, trying to figure something out. An experiment? Some kind of human study?"

He shook his head.

"Or did you- do you- want something. From me?"

She took a step toward him, just a breath away from him but not making any physical contact.

"What do you need, Sherlock? Because whatever it is, you can still have me."

Sherlock closed his eyes, her words reminding him of her trust and faith in him. She was still the one that mattered most, and he knew he could trust her. And God, the idea of having her, the way he had dreamed and fantasized about having her, left him lightheaded as his blood rushed downward.

He couldn't meet her eyes yet, not quite ready to let down all of his defenses at once. But Sherlock knew that this strange game they had been playing had come to an end. And this moment was the inevitable conclusion.

He stood slowly, almost uncoiling from his seat, and Molly couldn't have looked away even if she'd wanted to. He towered over her, but kept silent. When he was finally able to find his voice, it was huskier than either of them had ever heard before.

"You," he breathed in response. "I need you. I need anything and everything you're willing to give me. To share with me."

 _Steady, Molly._

She took in a shaky breath, clenching her thighs together to try and tame her arousal. It was everything she wanted to hear. But she had to be certain.

"I'm not asking you to punish yourself, Sherlock. If you're doing this because you think you owe it me, some kind of atonement for sins, then I don't want this."

God, it would break her if he walked away, but she needed to offer him an out. Once they started this, there would be no turning back for her.

His eyes snapped to hers and she was nearly forced back by the intensity of his stare. This was not pity, this was not penitence.

This was desire.

With practiced and precise movements Sherlock removed his Belstaff, tossing it behind him, never breaking his stare.

"Ask me again."

It was spoken in a whisper, but it might as well have been a command. Sherlock took a step toward her, so close to her now. Molly licked her lips, trying to find her voice.

"Please, Molly. Ask me again."

He hadn't even touched her yet, but her entire body was on the edge.

"What do you need?" The question rushed out of her on a ragged breath.

He didn't give her a chance to take another.

His kiss was forceful, as his arms wrapped around her pulling her to his chest, and Molly gave into it completely. His tongue plunged into her mouth, passionate and insistent, and she responded in kind, sliding her tongue against his and pulling a growl from his throat.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were panting.

Sherlock reached up to the release her hair from her pony tail, and pulled lightly at the silky tresses, exposing more of her long pale neck to him. He slowly dropped wet kisses from her ear down to her clavicle, murmuring to her.

"I've pictured you in those knickers, in all of those lacy underthings of yours. I've pictured myself removing them in hundreds of different ways, having you in hundreds of ways. I need to know all of you, Molly. I want to make you mine, hear you scream my name, bury myself in you. I need you, all of you..."

"God, Sherlock. Undress me, please." She tugged downward on his curls, wanting to feel that mouth on her breasts. Immediately she felt his hands on the hem of her T-shirt and her nipples hardened further at the cool air on her bared chest.

It was rare that Molly wore a bra when in the comfort of her own home, and tonight was no exception.

She watched as he stared at her breasts, her shirt still in his hands. His mouth was slightly open and he was still breathing heavily. But the longer he stood there, the more self-conscious she became. Her stomach was sinking quickly and she could feel embarrassed tears beginning to gather in her eyes.

 _Oh God, this was a mistake!_

She threw up her arms to cover herself. "Of course, they're small," she tried to smile but knew she was failing. "Maybe not what you had expected, it's alr-"

Her voice seemed to bring him back to reality, and he took her wrists gently, pulling her hands back to her sides. Sherlock slowly lowered himself to his knees, putting his face at the level of her breasts. Reverently, he placed the lightest of kisses in the valley between them.

"Molly Hooper, you are more beautiful than I imagined and so much more than I deserve."

She nearly melted as his tongue slowly traced the underside of her breast, slowly ascending to the dark pink nipple. And when his lips finally wrapped around it, the tears she'd been trying to hold back fell.

She felt like a goddess, worshiped and adored, and she scraped her nails along his scalp, needing more. He responded by shifting his mouth to her other nipple and lightly pulling and caressing the breast he'd left.

Molly was rocking her hips, her cunt pulsing with need for him.

"Sherlock, I need-" She gasped as he bit down on her nipple.

He began trailing his kisses down her stomach, his fingers playing at the waistband of her black leggings. His mouth never left her skin as he slowly pulled them down.

Molly bit her lip in anticipation and waited for him to notice.

She heard his deep groan as he revealed her red crotchless knickers. It was one of her most risque pieces, and the set she kept at the top of her collection. Although she had decided not to wear the corset, she knew Sherlock would have noticed these.

He continued to remove her leggings until she stood clad only in the barely-there knickers before him. Still fully clothed, Sherlock leaned back on his heels staring at his pathologist.

"The things I imagined doing to you in that scrap of red, Molly..."

"I'm here, Sherlock. Tell me what you want." She stared at him as he began to undo the cuffs of his black shirt.

He tilted his head slightly, considering her. Then the corner of his mouth turned up in a bit of a smile, and Molly thought it might have been the sexiest she'd ever seen him.

"Well, you've inspired multiple ideas with those knickers." Sherlock took his time undoing each and every button along the front of his shirt, revealing a pale toned chest. When he was finished he pulled his shirt from his trousers and let it fall to the ground behind him.

"But first, I want to taste you."

Rising back up onto his knees, His fingers parted the fabric at the crotch of her knickers and gently ran along the seam of her cunt. Molly widened her stance and braced herself with fistful of his curls.

Sherlock groaned as he pulled one of Molly's legs over his shoulder, opening her to him. He inhaled deeply before running his tongue through her folds. Finding her clit, he wrapped his lips around it and sucked gently as his fingers opened her up even further to his ministrations.

Molly couldn't have stayed quiet if she'd wanted to. Sherlock Holmes had his face in her cunt and it was better than she could have imagined. And as he began to pump one finger, then two into her tight heat she knew she was close.

"Sherlock, God, Sherlock!" He tongue was now lapping insistently at her clit and when his fingers curled within her, she came blissfully hard.

Molly's knees buckled. She nearly fell over but Sherlock caught her and lowered her gently to the floor with him. He laid her on her back, placing chaste kisses all along her jaw and lips as she tried to catch her breath.

"Hope you're not too spent, Molly, I'm not done with you yet. As I said, I had _multiple_ fantasies about these," Sherlock whispered into her neck, nuzzling her pulse point as he ran his hands over her knickers.

She was still in a beautiful fog as she replied. "Anything you want, Sherlock. Just take your trousers off."

His chuckle against her neck reverberated right through her. She missed his warmth when he pulled away, but seeing him open his trousers made up for it. She widened her legs as her heart raced in anticipation.

 _Oh God, he's beautiful._

It was no surprise that Sherlock was fit, but to see him exposed was breathtaking. She took note of the scars that marked his skin, but they only added to his sex appeal. He was more muscled than she would have thought, defined without looking bulky. But her eye was quickly drawn to a light brown trail of hair running low down his abdomen to a part of his anatomy she'd had her own fantasies about.

God, his cock nearly made her mouth water. Hard, thick and not so large she couldn't wrap her mouth around, inspiring Molly to scramble to her knees. But Sherlock stopped her with his hands in her hair.

"Certainly a fantasy. But not now. Right now, I need to be inside you." His voice was labored. With a slight tug of her hair, he slanted his mouth over hers and slowly lowered the two of them back to the floor. He lay himself between her spread thighs, never breaking their heated kiss.

His fingers played over the waistband of her knickers, stroking the satin bands. He pulled back suddenly, surprising Molly, and lifted both of her legs. He rested them on his shoulders as he began to remove the red knickers.

"Sherlock? What..."

"I finally get to have you, and I want nothing between us. Not even this. That's the fantasy that feels right tonight." He tossed the red fabric over his shoulder.

Thrusting her legs wide, he settled himself back between them as she threw her arms around his neck. He placed himself at her entrance, teasing her folds apart and Molly arched her hips upwards searching desperately for more contact.

"Please, Sherlock, please," she begged as the head of his cock nudged her clit.

"So ready for me, Molly. So wet and ready."

He entered her slowly, and she reveled in every inch. All she could think about was how beautiful this was, how perfectly full she felt with him stretching her. She could feel him murmuring into her neck, lips moving over her skin. But she couldn't quite make out the words.

It didn't matter. All that mattered was the feel of him inside her.

And when he was in her to the hilt he claimed her mouth in a gentle kiss. Their eyes met for a brief powerful moment.

And then that sexy smirk slid back onto Sherlock's face.

"Hold on tight."

He began to thrust, claiming her mouth again, but this time his kiss was anything but gentle. Molly anchored herself to him, her arms around his muscled back, fingernails no doubt leaving scratches on his back. She moaned, holding nothing back.

Sherlock hooked his arms around her legs, pulling them upward and opening her even wider. He was able to penetrate her even deeper, and his pace quickened to a nearly brutal speed until Molly was crying out to him.

It was everything Molly wanted. The sound of their bodies coming together, the scent of sweat and arousal, his bollocks slapping against her- She was on the verge of another orgasm, but this sweet build was unlike anything she'd known before.

"Come with me. We're so close, so close..."

And with that she was lost.

Molly screamed his name as she came, nearly blacking out in her pleasure. Sherlock followed with a loud cry as he emptied himself into her, cradling her body close to him. He turned onto his side to keep his full weight off of her. Regaining his breath, Sherlock began to stroke her hair, sweeping his large hands all the way down her back before returning to the crown of her head.

Molly felt exquisite. Her body was well used, and her mind was at utter peace. Her breathing was relaxing as she enjoyed the now gentle hands running over her. It crossed her mind that she should perhaps be self-conscious after such a display, or at least sad that it was over, but she couldn't muster the energy to be upset.

It had been the best sex of her life. Even as they held each other in the afterglow, it was still beautiful. No matter what happened after this, Molly knew she loved this gorgeous genius laying in her arms. She held him a bit tighter and squeezed her eyes shut.

If this was all she'd ever have of Sherlock Holmes, then it was worth it.

"Molly, weren't you listening?"

She popped open her eyes to see smiling blue-green ones looking back at her.

"I have hundreds of ideas about what to do with every bit of lingerie you own. Including a _very_ interesting pair of skull-print knickers." He leaned in and placed his lips to the corner of her mouth in a barely-there kiss.

"We are far from done here..."


End file.
